


Seduced by Moonlight

by Ariss_Tenoh



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What can I say if I was seduced by moonlight?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Yes?"

 

The eyes continued to gaze at him. Or perhaps that should be 'stare'.

 

A weary sigh.

 

"Nothing..."

 

One arched eyebrow.

 

"Oh all right, I was just wondering what in all the worlds I am doing here."

 

A smile suppressed a chuckle.

 

"Truly now? I would think it is 'quite' clear what you are doing here." A twin hiss of fabric, one of a body moving against the bed sheet and another of a sheet slipping off a pale body.

 

"Or should that be what 'we' are doing here."

 

Those eyes were fixed on the beautiful face leaning over him and he sighed again.

 

Tsuzuki reached up and slid his hand into his lover's hair, the strands soft as silk and glimmered with the same lustre.

 

He kept his violet eyes fixed on his lover's pale ones. He was always told how beautiful and enchanting his eyes were and his lover too did not miss an occasion to praise them, but he had secretly thought ever since meeting the man that those pale eyes were the uniquely beautiful ones. 

 

The pale grey eyes made him think of a platinum ring he'd seen once on a young woman's finger. How the metal had so shone and reflected the light while she was showing it to her fiancé who stood beside her.

 

Tsuzuki wondered if platinum burned. And if it did, would it have the same flare of intensity existent in his lover's every look and glance? Those inconspicuous and veiled looks which flayed his body with searing shame and unbearable, unspeakable, desire without fail every time he caught them and was caught in them. 

 

As for what he was doing here... Well, his lover was right. It was quite obvious from the cool moonlight bathing their naked bodies, to the fine sheen glistening off them, to the entangled limbs what he or rather 'they' were doing.

 

And there was also the peculiar scent hovering in the air, resembling rainwater or even more curiously and absurdly, damask roses.

 

Still doing actually if Tsuzuki was not imagining the ghost of a touch moving silently from the side of his chest, down to his hip, circling his inner thigh yet not dipping into the inner shadow there, only to return up again to somewhere near his nipple and begin the journey anew. 

 

He blinked once, then twice. And saw a mixture of a by now familiar look on his lover's elegant features. One that was a mixture of amusement and reined impatience whenever he strayed into his imagination and left his lover behind.

 

Tsuzuki raised his face and met those grey eyes. He answered a question so long ago asked it didn't require an answer any more, though it was not even a question to begin with. 

 

"Yes, you're right."

 

His body undulated slowly, leisurely, and very pleasantly against the body of the one holding him firmly, securely, and almost crushingly on and into the bed's silken sheets.

 

A detached part of Tsuzuki's mind remarked on the quiet loveliness of his lover. The understated beauty which needed only a touch of moonlight to cross the boundary of mere mortals into something ethereal and divine. Tsuzuki thought his lover really appeared wraith-like at the moment, a wraith spun of silver light and dark shadow. 

 

He wondered if he could use that as an excuse for his being here. He would just say to any who asked that he had been 'seduced by moonlight'. Yes, that sounded rather plausible right now. He couldn't think very clearly when his lover was stroking him like this. 

 

"Kiss me" The words were breathed softly like a holy commandment into the still atmosphere of the room.

 

Grey eyes moved closer to dark violet ones until the colours bled and merged into one another.

 

"Certainly," came the promise a breath away from Tsuzuki's lips.

 

Then his lover, Muraki, kissed him.....

 

Beneath the moon's watchful gaze, two beings moved together in the same silence of movement and exquisiteness of body said only to be possessed by wraiths......... a solitary cry echoed in the grim night...... a cry with as much allure as a late blooming rose in the lazy embrace of dusk ... and with just as much shame.


	2. Frozen Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because I want you to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each fic will have its own title and can be read separately, but they will make more sense if you're reading them in order.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

 

The coldness of the tiles seeped through his hands and his forehead as he leaned against them and contrasted wonderfully with the hot water pouring over his head and body.

 

Tsuzuki half turned to grab the soap. His hand brushed against his right nipple.

 

He winced and stilled immediately.

 

Damn Muraki for making him so aware of his body.

 

The grimace on Tsuzuki's face metamorphosed with the passing of seconds into a sheepish smile when he thought of his lover and what they had done together last night.

 

Muraki had announced that he intended to 'thoroughly appreciate' Tsuzuki.

 

Of course at the time I had no idea what he was talking about, Tsuzuki thought with no little amount of amusement.

 

_And of course I didn't know how many places there were to leave kiss marks and love bites without the possibility of them being seen by anyone._

 

Tsuzuki's smile spread to his eyes with that thought.

 

He would have continued to wander in his mind had it not been for the figure which now appeared at the doorway.

 

The shower's frosted glass door made it difficult to discern even the person's gender, yet Tsuzuki would know this person anywhere.

 

Muraki had a sense of the dramatic in him. His mere presence in a room was enough to make the silence grow heavy like the calm before a storm or erupt the room and its occupants into a flurry of activity.

 

The response usually depended on whether he'd killed anyone related to the room's occupants.

 

Pushing that grim and sarcastic remark of his mind aside, Tsuzuki slid the glass door open.

 

The steam floated into the rest of the bathroom like a blanket of early morning mist.

 

The doctor stood slightly within the doorway, framed by the stronger light that spilled from the bedroom. Though he didn't move from his place, the pale lilac kimono he wore kept swaying in its place.

 

Tsuzuki stared at Muraki, his hair dripping wet and his upper body half twisted out from behind the shower's door.

 

Muraki stared back.

 

_Any man would look silly in a lilac kimono. I even know a few women who can't pull off the elegant yet fragile look Muraki achieved, but he always has to be the fucking exception to everything._

 

As if sensing his lover's thoughts, the man still said nothing and stood watching Tsuzuki with those grey eyes of his.

 

As if waiting for something, Tsuzuki realised with a touch of surrealism. 

 

He exhaled and lowered his head. His face was for a moment hidden behind wet brown bangs. The violet eyes gazed for a moment at the water running down the drain.

 

Tsuzuki raised his eyes, looked at Muraki, and said, "Are you coming in?" 

 

The peculiar silence broke.

 

Like a child wondering if he should or shouldn't do something he desperately wanted to, Muraki tilted his head to one side and asked, "Why?"

 

His pale silver hair slid across his face and obscured half of his face.

 

An intense need to brush that hair away overcame Tsuzuki before he restrained himself and said,

 

"Because I want you to." 

 

The pale strands swept to one side when Muraki straightened and looked at Tsuzuki. 

 

His grey eyes were both visible now.

 

Tsuzuki smiled.

 

Muraki gave one tug to the knot at the front of his kimono. The kimono fluttered to the floor in a puddle of skin-warmed silk. 

 

The violet eyes drank in the sight of smooth white skin and firm sleek muscles until a pair of smouldering grey eyes crowded his line of sight and soft lips devoured his.

 

The frosted glass door slid firmly closed.

 

Between the drowning sounds of rushing water, the hiss of steam, and the pleading of whimpers, two bodies moved in tandem behind the glass door.

 

From its opaque surface, one could perceive only a few indistinct shapes.

 

The shape of one body with dark hair flung against the tiled wall, its arms spread wide to each side like pinned wings. And another vague shape kneeling between the dark one's knees. 

 

In the light reflecting off the frosted glass, the two shapes blended into one. The outline of spread arms and arched body made this new being into the likeness of a butterfly forever frozen in ice.... 

 

Or perhaps it was merely the effect of the opaque glass.


	3. Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was waiting for you."

Tsuzuki leaned back in the upholstered chair. 

 

The lights were dim, the few patrons he could see were sitting close together and exchanging words in a voice so low it created a background humming-like sound instead of the cacophony it could. A woman crooned in her deep voice over the hidden speakers, drawling each syllable of every word with a promise of delights to come.

 

It was, Tsuzuki thought with mild amusement, just the kind of cafe Muraki would frequent.

 

His eyes moved to a painting on the wood-panelled wall. A painting of a beautiful woman in a voluminous gown from days gone by, sitting at her dressing table and holding a hand mirror to check her appearance. Her right hand poised to adjust her rich brown locks but never quite touching them, forever frozen in time on the edge of indecision. 

 

_It seems cruel somehow._

 

A young man in his twenties passed by Tsuzuki's table. His steps made a pleasant sound against the polished floorboards. The light of a nearby lamp reflected off his eyes and they shone like pale blue diamonds, complementing his blond hair. 

 

Tsuzuki turned his head to see where he was headed. He wasn't surprised to find that the young man, more a boy really, stopped at a hidden alcove and was greeted by another man. This one dressed in a dark blue suit, and from what Tsuzuki could tell this man was clearly older than his newly arrived guest.

 

He had discovered after his third visit to this establishment the kind of customers it attracted and catered to. No hordes of giggling adolescent girls or swarms of people meeting for a chat or a date. Oh no, nothing so plebeian here. The cafe was 'invitation only' and one had to be accompanied by a patron of the cafe on the first visit, it had strange opening hours and reserved the right to close without notice in case of 'unforeseen circumstances' (Tsuzuki had no idea what that meant). The music was provided by a singer standing on a slightly raised dais, usually a woman in long evening gowns or a man in a black suit. And there was not a hint of steel or plastic in sight as the walls and floor were covered in dark cherry wood, the chairs and armchairs were upholstered leather in various dark shades of green, red, and brown. Oil paintings of men and women adorned the walls and Tsuzuki had a sneaking suspicion they weren't fakes or re-produced copies.

 

In short, it was not the type of cafe he would ever choose to sit in. He was certain it wasn't even one he'd know of its existence. 

 

_How did Muraki know about this place anyway?_

 

A small china vase of fresh cut flowers sat demurely before him as it did on every table. He didn't know what kind of flowers they were since they weren't the usual rose or carnation most cafes chose. The flowers were small clusters of petals in assorted shades of pink and purple. 

 

He drew one finger around the edge of a pink petal. 

 

_Soft like silk. And velvety rough but on the underside. Just like his co_

 

Tsuzuki quickly withdrew his hand with a guilty look on his face, a child caught with his hands in a cookie jar before dinner. He took a long careful sip of water from his glass and hoped it would cool the heat on his cheeks. 

 

A flash of white from his right caught his attention and he turned to look hoping it was his lover. 

 

It was a pearl drop earring dangling against a column of enticing white skin, which would make a sculptor swoon for want of carving material.

 

She was a beautiful woman, in her mid thirties. An age where a woman had blossomed into full womanhood and femininity was a quality to be celebrated and not something to be self-conscious of. Her deep blue dress ended just above her knees, proper yet sexy somehow. High heels with straps wound around delicate ankles. Light brown hair secured in an elaborate twisted braid high enough to draw the eye to her nape. 

 

He looked away and resisted the urge to shake his head. Muraki was definitely teaching him to recognise beauty and 'appreciate the finer things in life' as he put it. 

 

_Odd, but it's not like him to be late._

 

Tsuzuki didn't mind, though. He was often late himself and couldn't really complain since he was seldom kept waiting. 

 

Besides, there was something.. exciting and pleasant about this. The waiting. Knowing that your lover will show up soon, just to see you. 

 

One hundred and three years of living and Tsuzuki had never experienced this before. The heady pleasure of anticipation. The warm feeling coiling and uncoiling itself in his belly that could only be eased by a familiar face.

 

He was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

 

 _Ah, there he is._

 

In a dim room furnished in dark colours, Muraki's pale grey suit almost shone from where he stood at the entrance handing his coat to a waiter. The waiter said something to him and Muraki's eyes fell on Tsuzuki's face with a smile. 

 

A returned smile glimmered from a distance.

 

Tsuzuki watched his lover stride toward him in long confident steps, before being drawn to one table and exchanging a polite smile and a few words with its occupants.

 

The man was nothing if not polite, and Tsuzuki stomped the spark of irritation and impatience he felt. He wasn't a child and he shouldn't behave like one. 

 

Muraki excused himself and Tsuzuki saw the flicker of eyes turning to glance at him. There was no condemnation in the gaze, not in this establishment anyway.

 

Finally, or so it seemed to him, his lover slid into the chair next to him and bestowed a fleeting kiss on his cheek.

 

"I was waiting for you," he said unnecessarily. Oh well, no one claimed Tsuzuki was a great conversationalist. And he had to say something to detract attention from the silly smile on his face.

 

Grey eyes seemed to smile back at him too.

 

"I was detained by a last minute emergency. Fortunately, my patient's condition wasn't serious enough to require surgery."

 

He nodded and didn't ask. They'd decided early on that this _relationship_ was to stay clear of their professions if it was to survive. Tsuzuki knew now that no matter what morals may be lacking in his lover, Muraki took pride in everything he did and was an obsessed perfectionist when it came to his work. 

 

 _No surprises there all things considered._ A wry thought.

 

Muraki ordered several dishes from the menu and the waiter attentively wrote their order. Tsuzuki had long decided to leave the ordering to him, most of the restaurants they went to had unpronounceable cuisine and usually in foreign languages too. 

 

A few petals fell on the table's ivory linens. Tsuzuki thought it was a sign for him to stop playing with them. 

 

He noticed Muraki had finished with the waiter and was eyeing the flowers with a curious expression. 

 

"What is it?"

 

"Nothing. The flowers are Hydrangeas. An unusual choice for a table setting."

 

A frown. "Why's that?"

 

"They have an.. interesting meaning in the flower language."

 

Trust Muraki to know flower symbolism, Tsuzuki chuckled.

 

"What do they mean?"

 

"Perhaps I'll tell you later."

 

A warm hand settled high on Tsuzuki's thigh as lips nibbled on his own.

 

A blush. "Not here," he hissed.

 

Although no one would pay them any attention here, a part of Tsuzuki's mind reasoned.

 

"Mmmm."

 

A soft laugh.

 

"You're distracting me."

 

"Is it working?" No shame at all where this one was concerned.

 

Another laugh and Tsuzuki moved a bit in his chair to give his lover a fuller kiss.

.........

He would tell Tsuzuki later what the flower meant. Or perhaps he wouldn't tell him. It was not important that Hydrangea stood for heartlessness.


	4. Rose Powder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good Morning, Veronica."

_Light_

 

Ivory curtains, embroidered with golden vines, glowed with light from beyond the floor to ceiling windows.

 

_Lots of light_

 

These thoughts intruded upon Tsuzuki's contented mind, going round and round till he couldn't help but become fully awake. 

 

His first cognizant thought though, was that he didn't want to leave the bed. It was big, comfy, and warm. Not to mention the wonderfully silken texture of the sheets which just begged to be lounged in.

 

Tsuzuki stretched slowly on the bed, his body twisting in an unconscious erotic display, the pale blue sheets wrapped him from nipple to ankle in a cocoon of enticing softness.

 

A muffled sigh was lost somewhere in the folds of skin-warmed fabric, sleepy eyes peeked around the spacious bedroom. 

 

After a few silent heart-beats, Tsuzuki turned to lie on his stomach and acknowledged the fact that his lover had left.

 

_The man's a workaholic, no matter what 'work' he's involved in_

 

Tsuzuki liked that about him.

 

He felt his shoulder blades grow warm with the heat of a focused stare.

 

"Good morning, Veronica."

 

Wintry blue eyes met his from a small table on the other side of the bedroom.

 

He thought they were _across_ in more than mere distance.

 

It might have been a silly thought but it kept nagging at him every time he saw Veronica.

 

The doll was jealous.

 

It didn't help matters any that whenever he came over to Muraki's house, if they made it to his bedroom, Tsuzuki would ask him to draw the curtains around the bed before they did anything.

 

Perhaps what made matters worse was Muraki's calm mysterious smile. He never asked Tsuzuki about his sudden bouts of shyness. He would merely smile and draw the curtains closed as if confirming Tsuzuki's suspicions about his doll.

 

He had once thought to ask his lover to remove the doll from the bedroom, at least while he was there.

 

Some unknown instinct cautioned Tsuzuki against it.

 

He had a not quite ominous feeling that whomever would be leaving the room would not be Veronica.

 

Warm feet landed on cold floorboards.

 

One bed sheet went around Tsuzuki's waist. The cold air chilled his bare skin as he padded along to a chest of drawers and the oval mirror hanging above it. He'd never guessed Muraki's bedroom would be like this, fabrics in pale colours and furniture made of equally pale wood. Not the monstrosity of dark wood and heavy velvet he'd expected. He kept meaning to ask his lover what kind of wood it was; he'd never seen wood in this light a shade before.

 

Violet eyes met themselves on the mirror's surface.

 

Tsuzuki noticed a strange new expression on his face this morning.

 

He looked... all right. Not really sad, or happy, or tired. 

 

He looked all right. Just all right.

 

_I just.. am_

 

An uncomfortable sense of wonder crept into him from those half realised thoughts.

 

Tsuzuki's reflection frowned.

 

He placed one hand on the chest's surface and leaned forward to study his face in the mirror when his hand slipped.

 

His palm was white.

 

A trace of white powder trickled over the wood's surface, the chest's handles, and on the floor.

 

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and sniffed. 

 

The powder smelled of roses.

 

The mirror's reflection now wore a mischievous smile. It decided not to think about men who wore rose-scented powder. 

 

 _It's not like him to spill things. He's usually so neat and orderly. I wonder if someone was in a hurry this morning... or simply late?_

 

A chuckle. 

 

Hmmm.. he could imagine a few reasons why Muraki might be late to work today. It cheered him enough that he didn't dwell much on waking up alone after a .... night.

 

Tsuzuki was having trouble finding a suitable descriptive adjective. He attributed it to his meagre repertoire of vocabulary. As opposed to his overwhelmed senses or lack of coherent thoughts last night.

 

With a small self-deprecating smile, Tsuzuki walked to a small desk in the bedroom and found Muraki's stationery.

 

He sat down to write his lover a note.


	5. Interlude: Old Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He did not know what to think of the half-naked gentleman in his master's bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The Interludes are pieces set between the main body of the storyline. A look at events from another character's perspective, those who aren't Tsuzuki or Muraki.

A polite knock on the door.

 

"Come in," he called.

 

"Good afternoon, sir."

 

"Afternoon?" There was confusion and a bit of panic in that voice. "What time is it?"

 

"It's 11.30, sir." The answering voice was unperturbed.

 

"Oh no!" The same, however, could not be said for the half-naked gentleman in his master's bedroom. 

 

Sakaki politely ignored the guest's partial nudity. He also politely ignored the dropped sheet and the fact that his master's guest was now dressing right in front of him.

 

Honestly, what was the young master thinking in seeking an association with such a man? Except that his master was not the little boy he once was, and Sakaki therefore could not (very politely of course) _protest_ his choices.

 

Ah, the good old days were indeed past!

 

He could understand casual dalliances with women, or men in this case, but couldn't his master find someone more suitable? With good breeding and intelligence perhaps?

 

Or even a modicum of modesty? 

 

But he had raised the young master himself and trusted his judgement, so it followed that he must put away his reservations about his master's guest.

 

Sakaki stepped quickly to the left as the guest ran past him, in a dishevelled state of clothing, and down the Grand Staircase.

 

He followed the man below and informed him of the prepared meal. 

 

"Sir, there is a light meal prepared for you in the East room." 

 

"No, thanks. I'm already late." The reply, which was more of a shout, was thrown back his way. 

 

"Are you certain, sir? There is French toast and honey cakes. And chocolate muffins as well." Sakaki maintained a solicitous and impassive tone.

 

The muffled sound of feet hitting carpet after the loud almost ringing-like one of the guest running down the marble staircase brought profound relief to Sakaki's ears. 

 

He watched the man twitch, fidget, and move about in the same spot he stood in. He repressed his mind's immediate comment about bad posture.

 

The man stood in the entrance hall at the bottom of the staircase, after a moment he turned to face Sakaki.

 

Sakaki was at once struck by the vivid colour of the man's eyes, no wonder the master paid such attention to this particular guest. The purple eyes made him think of mysterious vagrant gypsies, long dead witches, or the tamer violet-eyed damsels in distress who littered romance novels. 

 

"Umm... maybe I'll just take one or two with me then. You know, so it doesn't go to waste." A sheepish smile followed those words.

 

"Certainly, sir. If you will follow me." 

 

He quickly regained his mental equilibrium and led the guest to the East room.

 

Sakaki thought it wise to call the master afterwards and ask if dinner for two need be prepared for this evening.

 

As he closed the East room's door behind the master's guest, he resolved to make a careful nonchalant remark to his master about which China sets ought to be used when this guest visited.

 

After all it would not do to have the master's favourite English Roses set broken because of his guest's overt enthusiasm for culinary delights.


	6. Dark and Bitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well done, Tsuzuki-san."

The black liquid was thick and shiny. It absorbed the light and reflected it as tiny stars on its watery surface. 

 

Its scent was heavy and spicy, like a harmless version of cigarette smoke. Its taste was bitter and it gave him a slow burn as it slid down his throat.

 

He raised the mug to his lips, paused to note the sharp contrast between the white colour of the mug and its black content, and took another sip from it.

 

_Dark and bitter..._

 

Muraki leaned back in his leather chair and closed his eyes. His thoughts were swirling today, his mind not quite restless but wandering from observations, to comments, to realizations with the speed of flashes of lightning. Part of his mind was replaying select scenes from his sexual encounter last night over and over again, another part was busy writing his patients' medical reports, while a third part was observing the activities of the first two with detached amusement. 

 

He drummed his fingers on the glass surface of his desk. Sakaki had called two and a half hours ago to ask if dinner for two should be prepared this evening. Muraki had replied in clipped tones and ended the call there.

 

He knew he'd surprised his long-time servant, but though the question had not been unexpected, it unsettled him.

 

 _What is it you're worried about?_ His mind asked.

 

No, not worried. The feeling he had was more like ruffled feathers, like a snake had slithered up his arm and left all the hairs on his arm on end.

 

 _More like a premonition. That's what it is._

 

Muraki stood up and walked to the window. The sun was setting, the sky was being painted slowly in strokes of decadent crimson and glaring vermilion.

 

He remembered how the sunlight was rosy and golden this morning. This morning when he left his bed only to discover another one shared it with him. 

 

The window's glass reflected his frown back at him. 

 

It was not that he'd forgotten that Tsuzuki had spent the night with him, he remembered that. It was the fact he'd forgotten it upon waking, which disturbed Muraki. That momentary slip of forgetfulness whispered of familiarity and ease of company, it teased him with his own mind's betrayal. 

 

How had he lowered his guard and forgot the presence of another person? Another person who was well within the boundaries of his personal space. 

 

Muraki's hands fisted in the pockets of his white lab coat. 

 

His mind supplied him with the image of Tsuzuki, asleep, naked, and entwined in his bed sheets.

 

 _Ah, yes. There is that._ Muraki smiled.

 

He'd never been good at resisting temptation. He'd almost been late to work today, inconceivable as it was, because he had been standing and watching Tsuzuki sleep. Asleep and oblivious to everything. Even his own beauty. 

 

_A thing of beauty is a joy for ever_

 

"Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness." He hesitated, then continued, "But still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing." He completed the lines his mind conjured, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room amid the sun's dying light. 

 

Muraki summoned the emotion he'd felt this morning upon the sight that greeted his eyes, and gave a little sigh as it came back to him. 

 

It was a feverish thing, alternately flaying his body with flushes of heat and coldness. His chest had constricted and he'd found breathing all but extremely difficult, a touch of excruciating heat flared up and down his body before reaching his mind and crystallizing into a cool admiration for beauty.

 

At the time, he'd felt as though a thousand needles had pierced his chest, he'd been certain his heart would burst.

 

He felt as though he were dying, and it was **glorious**!

 

Muraki walked back to his desk and forced himself to drink the now cold coffee. It left a sickening sensation in his stomach and a bitter, unbearable taste in his mouth.

 

It centred him.

 

* * *

 

The office's door swung open.

 

"Are there any more patients today?"

 

The nurse behind the counter, a young woman just out of university, smiled and said, "No, doctor. It's a slow day today."

 

The door clicked shut. "Well then, I'm leaving."

 

"Of course, doctor. Have a pleasant evening."

 

The doctor smiled at her and wished her the same, before turning and walking down the hospital corridor.

 

Ah, Dr. Muraki is sooo good-looking! And such a gentleman, she thought. The nurse smiled, she was lucky her shift this week was in this department. 

* * *

Muraki entered his room, glad to be back at his house. He shrugged his coat and it slid in one smooth motion down his arms. He placed it for the moment on a chair. The room was dark, dusk was giving way to night. A lone lamp shed light on the furniture, casting long shadows across the floor, shadows which attempted to climb the room's four walls. 

 

He loosened his cobalt blue tie and stopped to give Veronica a kiss on her forehead. She seemed a little vexed today and he wondered why. He followed her gaze and his grey eyes fell on a small bottle that appeared out of place on his bureau.

 

He strode across the room and looked at the bottle. It was his powder, the powder he'd spilled in his haste to leave this morning.

 

Beneath it, one page of ivory parchment rested. It told him:

 

**I like to wake up with you.**

 

The paper started to tremble in his hand as Muraki chuckled then laughed. Long, delighted peals of laughter. He could feel Veronica's disapproving eyes on him, wishing he'd control himself better.

 

_One sentence. Seven innocuous words. Do you even realize what you wrote, my dear Tsuzuki-san?_

 

'I like to wake up with you', 'I wish you were here when I woke up', 'I was lonely', 'Why did you leave me?', 'I'm angry', 'Stay with me next time?', perhaps even the much sought-after and much maligned, 'I love you'. 

 

A wicked smile descended on Muraki's face. He wondered which of these Tsuzuki had meant, if indeed he'd meant anything at all beyond the most literal script. He dismissed the latter assumption as unlikely. Unlike the fools Tsuzuki surrounded himself with, Muraki didn't see his lover as a dimwitted man with a tragic past and a harmless veneer.

 

Yet, it was also unlikely that Tsuzuki had meant any of those clichéd meanings.

 

How to interpret his little love note then? Muraki idly mused.

 

He wrapped one arm around his waist and stared at the piece of paper as if he could see beyond it to the one who wrote it.

 

A feeling of rightness settled on his shoulders, like a robe that finally fit after much tugging.

 

What comes, comes. He would deal with whatever came out of his encounter with the Shinigami. There was no need to waste time and energy on fretting about the future and he was not without means to defend himself if the wind decided to blow cold. In the meantime, there was no reason for this game to end yet.

 

Muraki looked at the note, conceding his love's win in this bout. 

 

"Well done, Tsuzuki-san. Oh well done," he said to the silence in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muraki is quoting the opening lines of **Endymion** by John Keats (1795–1821). A British poet and one of the central figures of the Romantic movement.


	7. Interlude: Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka sensed a curious hunger in his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The Interludes are pieces set between the main body of the storyline. A look at events from another character's perspective, those who aren't Tsuzuki or Muraki.

Tsuzuki hated Halloween. No, he _loathed_ Halloween.

 

In fact, he loathed it with the strength of a thousand burning suns, stars, and moons.

 

His long black coat flapped around his legs as he walked determinedly to a park bench and threw himself on it. He spread his legs in front of him, trying to ease the pain of stretched muscles. He threw his head back, baring his throat and sighed. Once and then twice as if he could expel the weariness from his body and soul as easily as he did the air from his lungs.

 

His partner's footsteps produced a paper-like sound while he tread on the ground's dry leaves, he stopped beside the bench. Hisoka didn't sit but merely sipped a cold soda from the can he held in one hand.

 

Tsuzuki half-closed his eyes. The sky was turning orange and pink, the sun would set soon and all Hell would break loose. Whether it would be figuratively or literally remained to be seen. 

 

"You've been in a bad mood since this morning. We haven't exactly been given a tough case or anything." Hisoka's voice was casual, indifferent. He wasn't looking at Tsuzuki but at the trees in the park.

 

"I hate Halloween." Tsuzuki said as if that explained it all.

 

He could feel those green eyes turn and rest on him, but he wasn't in the mood to face them and their unspoken questions.

 

"Why? What's so special about today? Aside from the fact that it's Halloween."

 

Then again, Hisoka never did mince words or beat around the bush.

 

Tsuzuki sat up and sighed, leaning his forearms on his knees. "People do the same stupid things over and over again. Just because it's Halloween every nutcase and weirdo out there decides that it's the perfect time for bloodshed, virgin sacrifices, and animal entrails to be spilled."

 

Hisoka stepped a little closed to Tsuzuki and peered down at him. "No one's dead, Tsuzuki." His tone was gentle and that probably infuriated Tsuzuki more than anything.

 

He abruptly stood up. The air whooshing around his body and coat. 

 

"Yet, you mean Hisoka. Nobody's dead _yet_." He kept his eyes strictly ahead of him. Bad enough his partner could read his emotions. There was no need to subject the boy to physical displays of it.

 

"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka floundered like he always did when it came to emotional issues. Ironic how an empath like him, the one best suited to read people and predict their reactions based on nuances of their emotional state, understood so little of what he was feeling from others. 

 

Tsuzuki sighed, he was doing that a lot lately. He pivoted on one foot and faced Hisoka.

 

"Hisoka, I've been doing this for more than a hundred years. There comes a time when I'm just so sick of seeing humans repeat their mistakes over and over again. They never learn. Hell, they don't even use a bit of common sense. No one should try summoning demons, or predicting the future, or devil worshipping. Least of all idiots with no understanding of the concept of _power_." He tried to keep his anger and irritation from bleeding through but suspected he wasn't very successful at it.

 

"That's just what people do. They make mistakes, Tsuzuki. We're the ones who clean up after them. That's more or less what Shinigami do, isn't it? Or do you think we should let every idiot and necromancer wannabe do whatever they want?" Hisoka's eyes flashed with his often carefully concealed anger and hardened into uncompromising green plates. It wasn't difficult to guess who Hisoka was thinking of exacting retribution from. 

 

A stray thought entered Tsuzuki's mind. He'd seen green tiles, the same shade of the boy's eyes, lining the slanting roofs of old temples and shrines. He frowned a little at the incongruous observation.

 

The sun was sinking into its own pool of red and orange. Their surroundings grew dark all of a sudden and the weather seemed cooler. The park was deserted. It was too early for lovers to walk its paths and too late for joggers to run it. 

 

Tsuzuki had to remind himself that the person standing before him dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a blue shirt was actually twenty one and not the sixteen years old boy he first met. It was hard to make that fine distinction at times. Especially when Hisoka unknowingly revealed his relative naiveté in their conversations. 

 

For a moment, Tsuzuki wished it was Tatsumi who was with him today. At least Tatsumi understood there was more to "good and evil" than the words used to label the acts.

 

Hisoka sensing that his older partner wasn't going to answer him, threw his soda can with excessive force into an empty trash can.

 

The metallic rattling of the can shook Tsuzuki from whatever memories had trapped him; he gave Hisoka an apologetic look. 

 

Hisoka tried to stop the resentment he felt from appearing on his face. It wasn't Tsuzuki's fault there was such a wide chasm between his experiences and Hisoka's. He hated feeling inadequate, inferior. Self-pity was a old childhood friend, one he would gleefully strangle if he could.

 

He watched Tsuzuki close the lapels of his black coat around him like two pieces of body armour. Watched the mask of cheerfulness descend on Tsuzuki's face and the false light shine in his violet eyes. He made a non-committal sound when Tsuzuki excused himself to go buy some sweet treat or other and made no comment when told to return to Meifu alone. 

 

Fallen orange and brown leaves lay about his feet like discarded clothing, the last rays of the sun painted Hisoka's blond hair dark. 

 

Hisoka continued watching his partner walk away from him until he disappeared in the distance. He gritted his teeth and cursed the impotence that rose like bile within him. There would come a day when he was strong and experienced, and he would become a worthy partner to a powerful Shinigami like Tsuzuki.

 

He pushed those dark thoughts from his mind. Maybe all Tsuzuki really wanted was to gorge himself on sweets. For Tsuzuki, it seemed to be his preferred method of dealing with a lousy day. He himself liked to go home and take a hot shower followed by a good book. To each his own, thought Hisoka.

 

Although... he did hope Tsuzuki didn't make himself sick from eating too much sweets. The shops would be full with Halloween trick and treats, and moderation wasn't a virtue of Tsuzuki's. 

 

As Hisoka prepared to leave this physical plane for Meifu, he wondered if the day had really been that bad. The hunger he'd sensed from his partner seemed disproportional to the cause.


	8. The Night After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm tired. So... tired."

He stood by the window. Moonlight bathed his nude body in silvery tones.

 

He could feel the eyes of his partner watching him from the bed. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of feet on carpet.

 

"Tsuzuki-san, come to bed." The quiet words came from behind him. 

 

For a moment, he thought of resisting. Purely for the need to say 'no' and assert some control over his life. Then he realised how childish that was and pushed the urge away.

 

Tsuzuki looked over his shoulder; Muraki stood with only a white sheet wrapped around his waist. He couldn't remember seeing the man appear so... _naked_. He felt a need to say something, something to explain his odd behaviour.

 

"I.." It was difficult to find the right words, the necessary words. "I'm tired. So... tired." A part of his mind told him how lame that sounded.

 

But perhaps those words made sense because Muraki's eyes softened and a cool hand took his arm and steered him toward the rumpled bed. 

 

"Leave it for the morning, Tsuzuki-san."

 

Leave what? Tsuzuki wondered. His strange behaviour since he arrived at Muraki's house and all but forced the man to have sex with him? The way he clung to Muraki like a distressed damsel? Or maybe how he kept fidgeting and tensing throughout the night? If he kept acting this way, not even a mad doctor would have him as a lover. Or was that merely a bed-cum-sex partner? He could feel himself sinking into a very familiar and comfortable pit of despair at that last thought.

 

A sharp bite on the neck shocked Tsuzuki back into the world of the present and he raised startled eyes to meet amused grey ones.

 

Muraki's lips were red.

 

He touched the side of his neck. Had Muraki really bitten hard enough to break the skin and why hadn't he felt it?

 

"Bed, Tsuzuki-san." An edge of steel crept into Muraki's tone. "I'm sure your guilt can wait till morning to grace you with its presence." And with that declaration, a wet tongue licked the remaining blood from Tsuzuki's neck.

 

He moaned and bit his lower lip and fell backwards.

 

Muraki's amused chuckle followed him into the bed's sheets.


	9. Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Soon. Soon I'll be as vital to you as the shadows you hide in._

The clock's long hand neared twelve.

 

He picked up his robe from the floor and wrapped it around himself. The silk left a tantalizing sensation as it moved against his skin, like cold kisses. A smile teased his mouth. The sensation of silk on skin was always pleasing, in a way more intimate than a lover's caress whose touch would always be judgemental. And he hated to be judged. Much less found wanting.

 

He spared a glance at the bed, but its occupant was deep asleep. He fastened the robe and quietly opened the door. His feet touched the cold wooden floors and he took the stairs down, one slow step at a time.

 

It had been obvious that Tsuzuki was upset by something. He would never come seeking Muraki so assiduously in normal times. The fact that there was a _normal_ time and an _every time_ now made Muraki smirk.

 

_Soon. Soon I'll be as vital to you as the shadows you hide in._

 

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed three times, deep reverent notes. Appropriate for the night when the Veil between worlds thinned.

 

He reached the end of the staircase and walked toward the coat closet in the foyer. The inherent chill in the marble floor climbed up his legs to his knees. Muraki opened the closet and pushed a panel at its back. The wood panel slid sideways and revealed a small hollow space with a basket in it. He lifted the basket and moved the panel back into its place.

 

Cold air rushed to meet him once he opened the front door. Walking barefoot in the dead of night on uneven gravel in his garden could be viewed as eccentric behaviour, but some people would know better. The thought made Muraki smile, perhaps his first real smile of the day. His mind mused on Tsuzuki's unexpected appearance today. He would have thought Halloween would be a busy time for the Shinigami and otherworldly peacekeepers, but it seemed Tsuzuki had once again decimated his opponent-cum-enemy and came here endeavouring to forget all about it. Moonlight fell on Muraki's face; it caught in his grey eyes, their pale colour contrasted with their hard gleam. He had enjoyed helping Tsuzuki forget. 

 

In the garden, dew drops collected on dark green leaves and shy budding rose petals. The moon hung full and heavy beneath a clear night sky.

 

 _Perfect_ , thought Muraki.

 

His little rounds - a pilgrimage of sorts- to sigils hidden in stone, bushes shaped into wards, and runes carved in tree trunks and branches made him walk to every nook and corner in his large garden. For one night in the year, he uncovered every working and reinforced it while pouring libations over them for the deities whose name he invoked in the making of each spell. He took out a flask of red wine from the basket he held and poured it over the sigil hidden between two rose bushes. There was a precise symmetry to everything in his garden, especially the small courtyard at its heart.

 

Other workings required golden honey, incense of myrrh or frankincense, fresh blood, and even Arabic bukhoor. All poured or burned in small copper or silver braziers. Sparks flew when small lumps of coal ignited; curiously the small fires lit throughout the garden's grounds didn't burn the vegetation concealing it. Even before Muraki finished, the air grew heavy with his offerings and a pregnant silence hung waiting to birth something.

 

Muraki stepped towards the centre of the garden, his stone courtyard with its stone pillars. Rose bushes were planted in two concentric circles around it; their red petals littered the ground like an unspoken greeting. He placed the basket with its empty bottles on the ground far from the centre and took a piece of chalk from it and a silver dagger with a mother of pearl handle. In his thin silk robe and on his knees, he looked like a mischievous boy as he sketched in white chalk on the stone slabs. The design was intricate for one being drawn entirely from memory. It spread outwards like ripples upon a pool's surface in circles, triangles, and rhombuses with sharp curlicues and cursive Latin letters inside the geometrical shapes. Muraki's hand ached from the speed of his drawing and the sharp rapid strokes needed at the end of every letter. 

 

A shift of moonlight and a miniature Aurora Borealis shimmered into being, bringing to the naked human eye the sight of those invited and summoned. Their translucent forms flickered and glittered, fading whenever true flame from the stone pillars' candles shifted in their direction by the wind. They watched the human rise and slowly draw the silver blade against his palm; blood flowed freely from his hand and splattered on the circle's design on the ground. They listened to him utter old, old words; ones forgotten by humanity in its modern age. The air drew taut. Winds were drawn into the circle and formed an almost funnel-like shape around the human. The elaborate circle on the ground pulsed once like a long steady heartbeat. The winds snapped, sighed with the dying of the tempest, and They too departed on the fading air currents..............

 

....... something flitted on the edges of his consciousness.

 

He opened his eyes and looked around the room, not really seeing it. It took a few minutes for the sound of running water to penetrate the sleepy fog obscuring his mind. Tsuzuki wriggled out of the tangled covers and padded to the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom's door was half open and he pushed it a little to squeeze through; he didn't want the steam escaping. He wasn't sure how the other man heard him but Muraki slid the shower stall's glass door and pulled Tsuzuki in.

 

Tsuzuki smiled at the sight of a wet Muraki with shampoo in his tousled hair. It was cute in the way a drowned tiger was cute, you could forget about its claws and teeth for a moment thinking of it as a big cat instead of a dangerous predator. He gently kissed Muraki, tasting soap on the pale skin of the man's neck. Sunrise was two hours away. He wanted to steal a few more moments with his lover before he had to leave.

 

The shower's glass door slid closed. Steam clouded the oval mirror in the bathroom.

 

Behind the door, a lilac robe lay hidden, pushed against the corner between the door and wall. Black dirt, white chalk, and drops of blood clung to its silk material.


	10. Hallowed Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The perception of 'light' depends on the eye of the beholder._

_Crack_

 

A matchstick flared like a small sun amid the darkness. Muraki touched it to the candle, and another pinpoint of light glowed in the room.

 

This room in Muraki's house had three glass walls curved in a half circle around its entrance. It offered a fine view of the rose garden and comfortable seating with its Oriental style pillows and cushions, all piled in groups on the floor promising an intimate setting. He should show this room to Tsuzuki if an opportunity presented itself. Although it was called the Sun Room, its defining feature was a huge chandelier fitted with a hundred candles. Muraki was perched on a tall ladder, carefully lighting each candle while making sure his shirt's sleeve won't catch fire.

 

Last night Tsuzuki had asked him how he came to be a Christian since his parents were not. Muraki's answer had seemed to shock Tsuzuki, Muraki thought he should have expected it and said something trite about faith and strong belief. The simple truth was that he liked the pageantry. Christianity was so full of it. Elaborate ceremonies, hymns and masses, and lots of gold and embroidery. The art of stained glass windows certainly owed much to churches.

 

He wouldn't call himself a believer. That would be taking hypocrisy a little far. But he enjoyed the little rituals. Going to church, attending mass, and the choral music was worth the effort of entering a religion that preached love when it didn't practice it. As a boy, he'd enjoyed going with a few friends to church. Some of them observed All Saints Day and lit candles on their family members' gravestones. Muraki might not feel the need, or love, to light candles for his family, but he found the practice charming. He had lit the house with both small and tall white candles ever since. 

 

Muraki lit the last candle and climbed down the ladder. His servant appeared in the doorway and collected the ladder; he returned later with a silver tea tray and placed it on the low table standing in the middle of the room. 

 

The doctor helped himself to a cup of Jasmine tea and leaned back among the many pillows with their deep jewelled colours. He gazed up and admired his work. The chandelier blazed with light and the glass walls reflected it back, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. A contented smile and Muraki's face lost its blank mask. Perhaps that person would visit again tonight. Muraki knew the man liked a quiet romantic evening and he was feeling rather magnanimous tonight. It would be a pity not to share the good feeling with someone. 

 

_Particularly Tsuzuki-san. After all, the perception of 'light' depends on the eye of the beholder._

 

* * *

Tsuzuki stood in a graveyard. Hisoka was busy interrogating the priest inside. Tsuzuki thought it useless. The old man was unlikely to have known one of _his flock_ was trying to raise the dead.

 

The wind whipped around him. His black coat looked darker than the night itself. The light shied away from him; a sympathetic side effect of his mood affecting his magic on a subconscious level.

 

To a Shinigami, Death was not final the way it was to humans. Judgement still awaited the souls journeying to the Underworld. And it was ironic how people chose to forget that part and concentrate on the 'happily ever after' aspect of the afterlife. His eyes moved towards a group of headstones. Someone had placed tea light candles in small glasses in front of the graves and on top of the headstones. The candles' light wavered with the passing of every breeze, no matter how slight. 

 

Points of light in a wild black sea. Tsuzuki's expression became pensive. The scene reminded him of the Earl's Castle and its multitude of slowly, _inevitably_ , burning candles.

 

He pivoted on one foot and strode away. The sides of his trench coat flapping from the sudden, violent move. He went to join Hisoka in the church. The view outside was just too depressing.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in April 2004. Written because at the time I had writer's block and I wanted them together in bed without having to write a whole Greek tragedy to get there. Of course it became more than a one-shot...


End file.
